#speakingwithoutwords

He sits there, book half open. The cup steams.

We do not look at each other. And yet I feel that we are aware of one another.

I dry the cutlery. Counting the knives quietly in my mind. Each movement a small pretext to keep my gaze lowered.

He lifts his eyes briefly. I nod fleetingly. No words.

Three, four breaths pass. Then a smile, barely there, like a secret meant for no one.

I return it carefully. Just enough. So the silence does not break, but does not end either.

We speak no words. And yet we speak. In the space between us that only we can fill.

written with Miran & Emil Lichtrand

How do you say it all, without speaking at all? What is the universal language? Is it through images and visual art? Music and dance? What if we were to make our bodices themselves a symbol? Aren’t we already?

Over the past few weeks, I have been finding in a variety of situations, that words themselves have not really been the best method for communicating my thoughts clearly. Hence, the absence of writing. 

On a recent trip back to Michigan, where I moved from just over a year ago, I spent a day with my sister. We Stopped at a sculpture garden she randomly found one day and thought I might like to see it. Turns out, she was right and I did really enjoy it.

 A few years ago, on a trip with my sister and her then fiancee, now husband, to San Francisco, we accidentally stumbled upon a temporary sculpture garden in Crissy Field. The temporary sculpture garden was a serious of work by Mark di Suvero. As we walked through the field, we didn’t talk much, but rather just enjoyed the moment and took photos of the different angles of the sculpture we each found to be the most interesting. Since then, it seems that visiting sculptures with my sister provides an experience we both enjoy, and seems to be an unspoken bridge for communication between us. The sculptures themselves say what I can only think to describe as us both enjoying form for being form, shapes for being shapes, and connected to each other through the sculptures to an even deeper value we both have, finding the joy in simplicity. 

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Balance

My “new years resolution” for this year was/is about creating balance. Balance within myself, and without in my life. How much is too much? What is not enough? How do you know when it’s juuuust right? 

I am finding that balance in the now seems to be weighing equally the past and the future. Bridging the old with the new. Changing bad habits and countering them with good ones. Staying grounded, while also remaining open to new opportunities. 

One without the other is just one. With one there is no other, but if there isn’t an other, than there can’t even be one. 

“That doesn’t mean the opposite ideas are automatically true: you can’t escape the madness of crowds by dogmatically rejecting them. Instead, ask yourself: how much of what you know about business is shaped by mistaken reactions to past mistakes? The most contrarian thing of all is not to oppose the crowd but to think for yourself.” - Peter Thiel

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Reading: Zero to One by Peter Thiel

Listening: Efterglow by Erki Panrnoja

((I know I'm like days behind on these, but I couldn't think of anything. Thank you so much to major-kirrahe for the prompts! They kept me quite occupied for a while. I'm still working on the others as well, muahaha.))

It wasn’t exactly how he expected their reunion to go. Then again, perhaps he should have known that he would find Shepard in a warzone.

Her voice rang clear and unmistakable just a short distance away. “I need someone, I don’t care who, as long as they can get us the turian resources we need.”

He chuckled at that. Same old Shepard. It was just ironic coincidence that he was the turian who could do just that. Ever since his promotion he was basically the expert on Reapers, and anything he needed, he got.

“I’m on it, Shepard. We’ll find you the primarch.” He walked up the platform to where she stood. A smile spread across her face as she called his name. They didn’t need words. Even after all these months, and everything that had happened. Standing in the middle of a warzone, they didn’t need any words.

That smile said everything. How happy she was to see him. How for a split second nothing else mattered except knowing the other was out there, alive and safe.

She walked closer to him, and he could see her composure waiver slightly. Something nobody else would have noticed, but he knew Shepard like nobody else.

“You’re alive.” She couldn’t hide the relief in her voice. Not from him. It was like she was reaffirming something she believed all along. Not a question, but a fact. He could tell it was a fact she had to believe was true. In truth, he felt the same about her.

He reached forward and clasped her hand. Holding onto her, reassuring her. He had not forgotten how he felt about her, even after her trial and arrest. He could never forget the time they spent together. She gripped him back, and in that grip he felt she was trying to reassure him in the same way. He placed his other hand on top of hers, and squeezed gently. Their eyes locked. She was still smiling, and he knew, she had gotten the message. It was more than good to see her, more than words could describe.